Eternal Winter
by gagas-applause
Summary: There hasn't been a threat to the world since Loki and the Chitauri were defeated. But the peace can't last forever and a soldier from the Black Widow's past is searching for her. Can she find him first and what will happen when she does? And when the World Security Council get involved, there's only going to be trouble for everyone. (Clintasha)
1. Chapter 1

**This was my entry for last July's Camp Nanowrimo. It is complete and is finally up for being posted. Loosely based on the set images posted for Captain America 2, it delves into the past with Black Widow and Winter Soldier, while the Avengers search for the soviet assassin.**

**I hope you like it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Avengers and no profit is being made from this piece of work.**

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Occasionally he had flashes: flashes of a scrawny young man that he called his friend; flashes of girls who were laughing and throwing themselves at his feet and flashes of red, white and blue. He wasn't sure of the meaning behind those flashes but he didn't let them bother him.

At least, he tried. But some nights he just couldn't let those flashes go.

Waking up in a cold sweat, his chest heaving as he gasped to catch his breath, taking in huge gulps of air as his body shook. His head snapped to the left as a flash of light caught his eyes. He visibly relaxed as he realised it was just the light creeping in the window reflecting off of his metal limb.

It was still dark outside but the moon was bright enough to light up his surroundings. Not that the dingy motel room was anything to look at, but the light was nice to try and relax himself after the nightmare he had just had.

Nightmares were commonplace in his world. He didn't usually question them either, having accepted his mysterious past a long time ago. Tonight was different however as he had never seen any of those images before.

Red, white and blue was the enemy. Why was he dreaming of the enemy?

And then there was that girl. The one with flaming red hair that rolled down her back in curls. The locks weren't ginger; no they were red like blood. And in the image he had of her in his mind, her hands were dripping red as she cried for help.

But who was she and what significance did she have to him? He didn't know and he wished he did but that was a wish that James Barnes couldn't make happen over night.

He got up from where he was sat perched on the end of the double bed. He had gone all out on this room that was for sure. Cockroaches, a broken shower and a double bed, what more could a guy ask for? Rolling his eyes at the thought, he made his way to the liquor cabinet, which was well stocked. His choice was a bottle of vodka; only the best Russia had to offer. As a Russian he refused to drink anything less.

The fact that he couldn't get drunk only gave him an even greater incentive to drink the entire bottle. He ignored the burn that scorched his throat. He could take it. You couldn't have pleasure without a little pain after all.

Just closing his eyes took him back to the events that had brought him to this run down motel in the middle of the Russian wilderness. It wasn't as though James wished to remember those god awful moments that had lead to this point, but sometimes he just had to give in and let them consume them in order to make any sense whatsoever of what had actually happened.

He just couldn't stop thinking of the redhead.

Her face was familiar but he couldn't quite place it. It was as though she was buried somewhere in his memories, the section of his memories that was cordoned off: there was a dark place in his mind and he just couldn't access it, no matter how hard he tried and no matter how much he wanted to. It was unfortunate but he assumed that those memories and the information stored in those shadows was hidden for a very good reason. Who was he to break open his own mind?

Only that was exactly what was happening. He was beginning to feel like a different person and James couldn't work it out. It was as though he had been drowning before and now that he had resurfaced he was changing and evolving into someone else. He didn't feel like the James he had always been. He wasn't sure of whom he was now feeling like; it was a completely alien being. Almost as though someone had taken him out and stuffed someone else into his head.

The dark room was sparse and utilitarian at best. There was a cracked full length mirror on the wall and James stood in front of it, just glancing over himself. His metal arm was there, the good old faithful limb that he really couldn't live without. The advanced prosthetic was the only constant in his life and he was glad for the comfort it gave him. Being a person who was remade over and over again by his commanding officers meant that constants weren't an option for him, but the limb had always been there, complete with its red star, his badge of honour. He wore the star almost as proudly as he wore his title. Not everyone could be crowned 'The Winter Soldier', but he had definitely earned it.

He had served his country for decades and he was proud. He would die for the Motherland.

Or would he?

And there she was again, that cursed redhead with her beautiful long hair and those piercing green eyes, her skin as pale as the snow that blanketed the country most of the year. Whoever she was, he was important to him. Though for what reason he had no idea.

There was something drawing him to her and he was damn well sure he was going to find her and find out why he had this fixation on her. It wasn't a sudden fixation either, no. It had been going on for weeks.

Grabbing one of the newspapers that he had swiped from the front desk, James flicked through it almost absentmindedly until a photograph made him stop. He stared, his dark eyes almost glaring at the image on the paper.

It was her. The mystery redhead and a group of people fighting armed soldiers in the middle of some American city. The thought of her being an enemy made nausea rise in his throat. How dare he have such a fixation with an American!

But he must have known her. Maybe she would be able to help him figure out why he was feeling so broken. He had to find her. He packed his few belongings that night, as well as the newspaper, and before he knew it he was walking away from the motel, the building burning to ashes behind him. The only clue he had was the name of her location, printed in the newspaper: Washington D.C.

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**Let me know what you think! Chapter 2 will be up soon.**


	2. Chapter 2

**So here's chapter 2! I'm amazed at how many views this has already, thank you so much for taking the time to read this.**

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Thousands of miles away, the redhead in question was sat on the roof of one of the tallest skyscrapers in New York City. Her name was Natasha Romanoff, also known as the Black Widow, and she was lost in thought.

The battle against Loki's Chitauri army had been months ago, but debris was still being swept up and buildings were still being repaired. It was going to take a while for the city to get back to normal, but it would happen, Natasha was sure of that.

The cool air of the autumn evening whipped at her skin but she wasn't cold. She was Russian, she didn't _do_ cold. No she was made of far stronger stuff than that.

Footsteps behind her made her more alert to her surroundings but she didn't need to look to know whose they were.

"Clint." She acknowledged. "What are you doing up here?" _I hope you're not checking up on me._

Clint, Hawkeye, shrugged. He knew not to bother her when she had something going on in her head, but something had been off about her for a few days now and he wasn't going to ignore it any longer.

"I should be asking you that. You're sat in my nest, Nat." _I'm not. You don't need checking up on._

He gave her one of his lopsided grins. Natasha had been able to sense one was coming her way and just let out a little huff of laughter.

"Made a nest already, huh Birdbrain? Should have known."

He hated this, he hated when she would feign being okay when she clearly wasn't. But she didn't want to talk about herself and he wasn't going to push her. So he just stepped over to where she was sitting and sat down beside her.

He slung his arm around her shoulders and she leaned into his body, her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes and her words were quiet, but loud enough to be picked up on by Clint.

He had his hearing aids in, which meant he wasn't quite settled in his surroundings. The only places he ever went without them was with her in their safehouses or around Coulson.

Coulson. His name still stung. Had you asked Natasha what her feelings for the agent were when she had joined SHIELD ten years ago, she would have replied that she wouldn't care whether he survived whatever catastrophe was happening or not. However time had changed everything. Coulson had become like a father to her and she felt lost without him.

She couldn't even imagine what Clint was going through, coming to terms with losing the man who had been his number one hero for the last twenty years. Coulson had practically raised Clint, he _had_ been Clint's 'father'. Those thoughts only made Natasha wrap her arms around her partner and hold him tight, trying her best to reassure him.

His lips kissing her flaming red hair and the mumble of his voice against her head made her heart lighten just a little.

"I'm okay Tasha. I promise. I've got you, haven't I?"

And even though the question was rhetorical, she answered.

"Yes. You always will."

If the battle against monsters and magic and nothing they had ever been trained for had taught her anything, it was that she was never letting Clint go. She had told Loki that love was for children, too bad he hadn't been able to notice a lie told by the extremely talented liar that was the Black Widow.

She had tricked the trickster god. And she was very proud of that.

The call for the Avengers to assemble was given at five in the morning the next day. The superheroes left their bedrooms in various states of consciousness and dress. Tony had pulled an all-nighter on his work and was still in his trashed Black Sabbath t-shirt – a fresh coffee stain down the side. Bruce had actually had a decent night's sleep and was already up in the kitchen having breakfast and Steve had just been getting ready to go for a run so was in his gym clothes. Thor was absent as he was back on Asgard. The two assassins? They were already at the New York SHIELD base.

An hour later and they were all assembled in the meeting room. Director Fury was stood at the head of the circular glass table, files littered the top and as Natasha spotted one of the printed black titles, her breath hitched in her throat. It was subtle, unless you knew her remarkably well you wouldn't notice that anything was wrong with her.

Hawkeye did. Clint always noticed every little detail about Natasha. He gave her a little frown but didn't push any more.

"What do you know about the Winter Soldier?"

Natasha remained stoic. No one else said anything, as no one else knew anything. It was almost as though his one eye could sense that someone wasn't telling the truth as he stepped around the table, coming to stand behind his agent's chair.

"Agent Romanoff. I suppose you didn't hear my question so I'll ask again. What do you know about the Winter Soldier?"

Her eyes steeled and her reply was nothing short of military protocol. Had she been standing she would have stood to attention.

"Nothing Sir."

"Romanoff!"

His hand shot out and gripped her chin, tugging her face to look at him. She retaliated by slamming his wrist down onto the table, an audible crack echoing throughout the room as the glass tabletop cracked under the force.

"Everything!"

And she resolved to slump down in her chair, staring at the glass, her body trembling in its place. A smile barely ghosted Fury's lips at the fact he had gotten the answer that he knew had been true the whole time. Of course she knew about the Winter Soldier. Granted, she may not remember everything, but she knew.

"Do I have to send you to interrogation or should we bring Romanova back out?"

Her reaction to that comment was far more volatile and she stood, whirling on the spot to face him, her gun in her hand, finger tensed on the trigger. The way his one eye locked onto her blazing green ones was almost a dare. _Kill me. Go on._

The gun was lowered and holstered and Natasha sat back down. She moved slowly, almost like a trapped animal that was desperate to get out of the room. Tension was thick, the other Avengers could feel it and Clint reached out and placed a comforting hand on Natasha's thigh under the table. She didn't shove it away.

"The Winter Soldier is Russia's best assassin. He was my partner. He trained me years ago."

"And where was he last seen?"

Natasha shrugged and refused to meet Fury's eye.

"I don't know. The last time I saw him? He was being put into cryogenic storage. This was twenty years ago at least."

"Where?"

"Moscow."

"Good, we'll start looking there."

That was when the frown fell onto Natasha's face and she raised her head.

"Why are you looking for him?"

The smile on Fury's face made her stomach churn and had Clint not suddenly gripped her thigh, she would have flung herself from her seat and punched him in the face herself.

"Because. He is, as you said yourself, Russia's most dangerous assassin. And we have word and undeniable proof that he has 'woken up' from his cryogenic state. Open his file Romanoff."

She did and what she saw made her tense up. She passed it to Clint who then passed it along.

"Fifteen of our agents, all dead. Direct kill shots with a standard issue Russian firearm. We would have left him be but he's made it personal. He returned to the Red Room site that you so helpfully located for us last month and slaughtered them all."

The pictures were sickening. One was a security image taken of the Winter Soldier making his way through the old base. Just the glint of his metal arm was enough to make Natasha want to empty her stomach out of pure dread. He shouldn't be alive.

"Your task, Agent Romanoff, is to get him into SHIELD custody."

Well, it was better than killing him. With so much history between the two of them, killing the Winter Soldier just wouldn't be possible.

"You and Captain Rogers will be undercover to try and coax him out. You're the only one who knows him inside out, give or take the gaps pointed out to us. And the Captain is perhaps the most inconspicuous of all of you. You have twenty-four hours to locate him and then you're shipping out. Dismissed."

Fury left the room first. The Avengers were left talking, wondering why all of them had been called to a briefing that had only been meant for two of them. Had it been to make sure Natasha didn't blow off the handle and go on a massacre around SHIELD?

Perhaps that was a little extreme. But she didn't react well to her past being dragged up and would let her old personality out. Natalia Romanova would appear for just a moment, but in that moment all hell could break loose. You didn't want to be there when it did.

Tony, Bruce and Steve were talking quietly to themselves and when they turned around, Clint and Natasha were gone.

Nobody questioned where they had gone. When it came to the Black Widow, Hawkeye was the only one who could deal with her.

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**These were originally two separate chapters, but I figured putting them together would be the better option as they were a little short. So here the Avengers are, what do you think?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry I haven't updated for a couple of days. I really wanted to update a chapter a day, but when you have uni and your job taking up 12 hours of you day, it's hard. And my 10 hour shift at work yesterday really threw me off too. **

**So here's chapter 3! Thank you so much for all of your reviews too! And the hits!**

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He was getting closer. He could sense it. He had heard talk of a group of 'superheroes' from New York, they called themselves 'The Avengers' and they were, to an extent, super-powered. He had to laugh at them if anything. Pathetic.

But he was following them because _she_ was one of them.

That woman with the long red curls that he couldn't get out of his head, she was one of these superheroes and he had to find her. He had found himself dreaming more and more of this mystery woman; learning things about her that he wasn't sure were memories or just figments of his non-existent imagination. He had seen her in a tight black cat suit but much younger, in a training ring in the middle of Moscow. He had been training her and she had given him as good as she could, really holding her own until one more punch from him sent her crashing to the mat. She had jumped right back up though, holding her ribs for just a second before thumping him in the face with her small fist. She couldn't have been any more than fifteen or sixteen but she had been very, very good. It was one of the dreams that he hoped was a memory.

Another was of him walking down a street in Paris, his hand holding hers. It was his flesh one, his metal arm hidden underneath the sleeve of his coat and a glove over his hand; luckily the weather was cold so he didn't look out of place. Her green eyes were sparkling happily as she looked all around, older now but no more than eighteen. She still had some childlike wonder in her features as he showed her around the park; snow glistening everywhere they looked and an icy pond full of ice-skaters making her stop and stare. She tugged on his hand and begged him in fluent French. He understood and after some more urging, he rolled his eyes and gave him. They rented a pair of skates and he took her onto the ice. She wobbled a little but quickly caught her balance and they were soon spinning around the ice, her laughter making him laugh.

James was glad to know that she had obviously meant a lot to him. The fact that she was in a training facility with him, in Moscow of all places, suggested that she wasn't actually the enemy. Perhaps she was actually Russian: one of him.

The last dream he had seen came from the previous night. He had seen the girl again, this time face on. Her face was full of horrifying gore, blood dripping everywhere as she stood in the middle of a room full of dead bodies. She was in a black uniform, the red star on her shoulder much like his was on his arm. The bodies all around her were of young girls, some much younger than her eighteen year old self. All were dead and she was their murderer. Her chest was heaving as she caught her breath, her body trembling out of the realisation of what she had done. Then had come her pleas, cries of "пожалуйста! Это не моя вина!" sounding hollow against the grey, blood splattered concrete walls.

He had woken up in a cold sweat, even more determined to find her, if anything just to make sure she was okay. He didn't know where this sudden compassion had come from, but there was just something about her. He would just have to wait and see.

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**пожалуйста! Это не моя вина = Please! It's not my fault! (Translated through Google, sorry if it's not correct, I unfortunately can't speak Russian)**

**There's another chapter (a longer one) coming in a few hours! Please let me know what you think so far.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Here it is, the second chapter today, like I promised!**

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There was no further mention of the incident in the meeting room. The only proof that it had even happened – since Natasha had held Tony at knife point and demanded he hack into the system and delete all security footage – was the fist sized hole in the wall in the corridor that had quickly been boarded up and was awaiting repair.

Fury had only smirked at the sight of it.

While the other Avengers found the relationship between Black Widow and SHIELD's director more than a little strange, it was Hawkeye who understood it perfectly.

The day he had brought the Black Widow in to SHIELD alive instead of in a body bag, she had been more than a little volatile and not so willing to co-operate. Fury had visited her in one of the holding cells and an interrogation had happened.

Although Nick Fury had only been director of SHIELD for a short period of time, five years this fall, he was certain that nothing could surprise him. He was absolutely certain that sending Agent Clint Barton out on a routine mission to simply kill an assassin that had been a thorn in SHIELD's side for years wouldn't have been something to even worry about. It was simple and it was done all the time.

Except walking into his morning meeting only to be told that Barton hadn't actually loosed an arrow to kill the assassin, but actually brought her home with him... no, he wasn't surprised by that. He was curious as to Barton's reasons and more than a little pissed off that his orders hadn't been followed, but he wasn't surprised.

The surprise hadn't come until he had stepped into the holding cell containing one Natalia Alianovna Romanova. The intel that SHIELD had collected on this particular black market Russian assassin had pinned her to be a very well experienced twenty five year old woman. The person curled up on a bench in the corner of the tiny and harshly lit cell was no more than eighteen years old at best. She was a child. The Black Widow was nothing more than a child. And Fury had no doubt that she was the Black Widow, by the way she had him pinned up against the wall with a knife that she had pulled from who only knew where pressed against his neck.

She was growling in hurried Russian, her green eyes wild but full of fear. She was terrified that he was going to kill her, he was sure of that. He wasn't going to, no, but he would let her fear sit with her just a moment longer.

It was that moment that he decided that Agent Barton had made the right decision in letting her live. She was feisty and full of spirit, despite that spirit currently being calibrated the wrong way. They could bring her over to their side by promising her a much better life than the one she was currently living.

Not feeling him even start to fight back seemed to only enrage the assassin even more and she let go and flung the knife at him. He sidestepped it easily and watched as it embedded itself in the wall.

"Miss Romanova. Or should I address you as the Black Widow?"

"Miss Romanova is fine." Her English was heavily accented.

"Well Miss Romanova, it seems that your fate is in my hands. I'm Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD. My agent was sent to kill you but he brought you back here. Why?"

Natalia Romanova could only shrug. She didn't understand why he had brought her back.

"I don't know. Honestly Director, he should have killed me." She had respect for him and it showed. He had authority and she respected that. To a point, of course: he was still her enemy.

"Why?" Fury's tone was sharp, cold and to the point. Natalia smiled at this. She liked people who were to the point.

"Because I could easily wreck havoc on your agency. I could burn you all to the ground with nothing more than a candle."

"Oh I don't doubt that. But you haven't."

"Who said I wasn't going to?"

It was now that Fury gave a knowing smile. Natalia felt a shiver run up her spine. It was the same knowing smile that her superiors back in the Red Room had used to use and she hated it. It was disgusting and it got under her skin.

"You aren't going to burn this ship to the ground because you actually want to be here. You don't want to go back to the hellhole that is the Red Room Academy. You would rather die then face the punishments that await you for failing your last mission. Isn't that right?"

She hated people who could read her. So she sprung again, yanking the knife from the wall and whipping it at Fury as if it was nothing more than a paper airplane. It hit her target with deadly accuracy and embedded itself into his left eye. There was a lot of blood, it was oozing down his face but Fury waved off the security agents that rushed into the room to detain the Russian, before pulling the knife slowly from the damaged eyeball. It made a squelch and the security agents flinched at the noise.

"Leave her. I like this one."

Natalia's face furrowed from where she had backed herself into a corner to get away from the agents trying to reach for her. His tone had told her that he was still in control and she didn't like that one bit.

"I am not your property." She spat at him through gritted teeth.

"I certainly know that and I will not treat you as such. You no longer have to feel like property Miss Romanova." He put a hand to his ear and activated his communicator, medics surrounding him more and more every second, itching to get a move on and try to save his eye. "Coulson. Get down here and get our Russian guest to your office. Set her up, we have a new agent."

Of course, she wasn't instated until almost six months later, spending a few more weeks in thorough interrogation, milked of all her information about their Russian enemies, before going through months of intensive recalibration and deprogramming. But Fury had kept his word and she had indeed been made an agent.

His secret to getting the better of her was to make her angry. Anger her and the Russian spark would flare up and Natalia Romanova would take over the usually calm and collected Natasha Romanoff. It was a dirty tactic yes, but it certainly worked.

Hawkeye had seen the footage of that event in the holding cell, watched it over and over again with a mixture of horror, disgust and mirth on his face. It wasn't everyday that someone got the better of Fury like that and definitely not everyday that that person was an eighteen-year-old girl.

Fury's eye didn't survive, but it was a small price to pay for having Russia's best on their side. The eye patch was actually a Christmas gift from the Widow herself.

So when Natasha had exploded in the meeting room, Clint hadn't been surprised. He had half expected her to magic another knife from some place on her body and take out Fury's other eye. The two of them had been at each other's throats ever since, Natasha eager to make it clear that she wasn't to be controlled or owned by anyone and Fury desperate to assert his authority over her. It was an endless game of egos and Clint often felt as though he was stuck in the middle. He was sure Agent Hill felt the same way.

As soon as he had pulled his partner from the meeting room he had taken her straight down to the small bedroom he kept here on the Helicarrier. Opening the door it wasn't much at all. The room was painted in military grey and white with splashes of black. There were no real personal possessions anywhere, aside from his bow case leaning against the wall and boxes of arrowheads, seven boxes of them in total, stacked precariously up against the wardrobe. They wobbled a little whenever anyone walked past but they hadn't fallen yet. Clint was optimistic that they wouldn't. Every time him and his partner were in here, Natasha would lecture him on putting them away properly.

_"One day you will wake up in the middle of the night, get out of bed and impale your foot on one because they've finally conceded and fallen down. I won't wake up to bandage you up when you do."_

Her tone had been playful and teasing at the time but he was certain that she meant it and would sleep blissfully on in the next room while he hopped around in agony. Stepping on an arrowhead was just like stepping on a Lego brick or an upturned plug but with far more blood. It was messy and yes, he knew firsthand because it had happened before. Not that he learned from past experiences of course.

Picking up the gym clothes that he had left on the bed, Hawkeye flung them over his shoulder. They landed in the laundry basket with no trouble at all and Clint allowed himself the smug smirk, letting it grow when he felt Natasha prod him in the back.

"I can practically feel your ego Barton. You know you couldn't have missed."

He spun around and grabbed Natasha by the wrists, catching her off guard and tugged her body forward. He stepped back at the same time, perching on the edge of the bed and pulled her to stand in between his spread legs. His hands then slipped up to hold her upper arms, just above the elbows.

"Speaking of egos, want to talk about yours? What was with that showdown with Fury?"

Natasha didn't answer and averted her eyes. Clint sighed and let go with one hand, reaching up to tip her chin up so that she gave him the eye contact that he wanted.

"Tasha?"

Now it was her turn to sigh and she tipped her head forward to rest it on his shoulder. His arms then wrapped tightly around her and just rocked her a little for a few moments.

"He's supposed to be dead. They told me he was, when they took him away they said they would kill him in cryo."

Clint knew of the horrors of her past, but there were still things that she hadn't told him. Including this Winter Soldier. He knew that she had known the guy. But he knew nothing else.

"Talk to me Natasha, tell me what happened. Tell me how he hurt you." He placed a kiss to her temple and just stood there, giving her all the time she needed. One thing he had learned about dealing with Natasha was that she wasn't as emotionless or stone cold as she made herself out to be. You just had to work your way under her skin and gently crack her shell and coax everything she was feeling out. She needed help to express some emotions, in particular those relating to her years spent in Russia. Clint was certain that he didn't even want to know about some of the things she had gone through. "We've got all day. I'm here..."

_Sometimes, being spies had its advantages. But trying to break into a heavily armed facility owned by more spies was just near on impossible. It was that which James decided had been their downfall. And it was because of their poor decisions that girls now surrounded them, all armed to the teeth in very similar uniform to the one worn by the girl stood beside him. She was trying to hide her trembles and was doing a very good job. Again, the people surrounding them were just as well trained and could tell that she was struggling to hide how she felt. One of the girls, the one directly in front of him, was a tall blonde. Her features were pointed and rather harsh yet she was still beautiful. Her face twisted as she stared at the red head beside him, twisting into an ugly smirk of pure glee._

_"Natalia is scared!" She cried out in fluent Russian. "The Black Widow is actually scared! That is surely enough for death, yes?" Black Widows couldn't be scared._

_James felt Natalia tense up, her hands balled into fists, her nails digging so hard into her palm that they drew blood._

_"I am not scared!" Natalia hissed back, nothing but anger now running through her veins. Had the situation not have been so serious then James would have laughed at how Natalia could just rip this girl to shreds with one hand behind her back. She would take great pleasure in it too, he knew that much._

_"Oh really? You have just been caught with your superior. That demands harsh punishment and then you are failing in continuing your Black Widow facade. That bumps the sentence up to death. I can happily do that for you."_

_A low growl left Natalia's lips but everything was cut off by footsteps approaching. Some of the girls stepped back to allow the people they belonged to to pass._

_"Relax Yelena. I will be deciding and carrying out the correct punishments to these two. You girls are dismissed. Back to your rooms and make sure you stay there." The girls didn't hesitate and hurried off, guns back in their holsters. _

_The tall men, two of them, towered over both of the condemned, even James. One was thin but muscular and it was evident there was great strength behind his age. His hair was grey, as was the beard on his face. The other was slightly larger, but just as strong, if not stronger. His eyes were nearly as black as his hair and the scar across his face deformed the disturbing smirk on his lips._

_"My my my. Our little Tsarina has been sleeping around."_

_The black haired man, only known as Commander, reached forward and grabbed Natalia's face, pulling her to him. She made no effort to slap him away, knowing it would only land her in a worse position._

_"No Sir."_

_"No?" His tone was incredulous. "Then why are you two returning so late from an unauthorised trip?"_

_James was the one who spoke up._

_"A simple training exercise Sir." _

_"Natalia is not to leave the base."_

_"I know Sir. I am sorry, I did not follow that."_

_The older man, one Ivan Petrovich - the founder of the Red Room Academy - stepped forward then. Natalia was thrown to him and he caught her around her arm and held her in place tightly._

_"You stink of sex, you filthy girl! Have I not brought you up to know better?"_

_Natalia could only stare at him in reply. This man had been a father figure to her, she had never considered his actions wrong for she had never known anything else. His hands took her arms and shook her._

_"Did you fuck Winter Soldier? Have you been?" The anger in his words shook her to her core and she could only whimper in reply._

_"Yes Sir."_

_Ivan's eyes showed how furious he was and he yelled for security. Armed guards were on the scene within moments, their weapons drawn._

_"Take him to the room."_

_The burly guards, more brawn than brains, grabbed hold of the Soldier and began to march him away. James didn't put up a fight, he just watched Natalia as he was led down the dark corridor that was lit only with emergency military lighting, giving it an eerie red glow._

_"Come Natalia. You will watch and learn what happens when you disobey your superiors. You forget that I own you." Ivan began to drag her along behind the Soldier, to the dark room at the end of the corridor._

_Natalia attempted to dig her heels into the concrete floor but her attempts only earned her a slap. So she continued along quietly, knowing full well what lie behind the double doors at the end. She could see them and she hated them. James had already been pulled through._

_Bursting through the doors, dragged by Ivan and followed by the Commander, she was thrown to one of the guards who had already deposited of James. His grip was painful on her arms but she gritted her teeth and refused to cry out, not wanting to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing her pain. She looked around the room with wide eyes. She had heard of this room but she hadn't seen it. It was a mystery to the girls of the Red Room Academy, something akin to legend. But here it was, it wasn't just a legend that was whispered through the halls._

_It could only be described as the lab of a mad scientist, tubes stood on tall stands, the length of a human. They were filled with a gel that was glowing from a disturbing phosphorus light that was shone through them and Natalia had a feeling that she knew what they were for. She only hoped she was wrong._

_When a man in a lab coat and gloves stepped forward and injected James with something from a syringe, she knew she wasn't. She watched as James's body seemed to give out on him and he was hauled into one of the tubes. It was sealed up and the gel spread around his body, the lock on the side spinning until it set itself. Fifty years._

_Fifty years until it could be opened again._

_Natalia hadn't even realised that she had been screaming and pleading with them until they silenced her with a bullet that tore through the flesh on her thigh. Ivan stepped forward and struck her with the butt of his gun, leaving blood dripping from her clearly broken nose._

_"I don't like punishing you my Tsarina but this is what you get. We gave you the Winter Soldier so that he could train you and make you the best, yet you go behind our backs and betray us? What were you thinking, you stupid, stupid girl?"_

_For once, Natalia had no words. She could only hang her head and shake it, unable to say why she had done what she had. She had known love was wrong the whole time but she had felt so wonderful with James, it was a feeling she had never felt before and she had selfishly never wanted it to end._

_And now he was in a cryogenic tube, not to emerge for fifty years._

_But she quickly learned that her punishment wasn't over yet._

_The Commander spoke to Ivan for a moment before stepping forward himself, taking her by the arm and forcing her to follow him. They went back through the doors and took a left and it was then that Natalia knew what was coming for her. She began pleading again._

_"Please... no! Not this, anything but this. Please!"_

_They were flushing James out once and for all._

_The next door she was pulled through brought her back into a lab, one that was occupied by a single chair. It was similar to one you would find in a doctor's office, one that could be propped up and back to give the doctor full access to the patient. Only this one also had steel cuffs that held the person in place. And Natalia knew who that person was going to be._

_She was shoved into the chair and strapped down, the cuffs locked around her wrists, ankles and waist. A metal helmet was placed on the top of her head and another scientist, this time wearing a mask with his lab coat and gloves, walked into her line of vision with a hand full of syringes._

_The Commander followed. _

_"For running off with the Winter Soldier, your memories of him will be removed. You are a killer Natalia. If you want the honour of being the Black Widow then you need to get all these stupid ideas from your head."_

_The last thing she saw before she fell under the pull of the drugs in the syringes was the Commander's laughing face. _

_And then the screaming began as everything about the man she loved was torn from her mind._

Natasha awoke with a piercing scream, thrashing around in the bed until she felt she could breathe again. Why had her mind remembered that? What had she done to deserve seeing one of the worst moments of her life once again?

SHIELD had been able to recover a lot of her lost memories so it was thanks to them that she could even remember James. But now she had to find a way to stamp out all of the nightmares that were flooding back.

And she also had to explain what she had just seen to Clint, who was hovering over her with worry and confusion on his face. He reached out and pulled her body to his, just holding her as she actually allowed herself to cry.

Thousands of miles away, the Winter Soldier was doing the same. He had awoken after seeing himself get taken away from the beautiful red head he had fallen for, despite her being nothing more than a memory. He hadn't been able to protect her and he hoped to a god that he didn't believe existed that she would be okay until he could find her again.

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**If you liked it (or even if you didn't) then please leave me a review! I'd like to know what you think.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Oh god, sorry this has taken a while to come. Uni has really gotten busy this week.**

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Breakfast for the Avengers the next day was more than a little awkward. Everyone sat around the table wary of the master assassin who was sat eating her pancakes, tension thick in the air and the only sounds were knives and forks clinking against plates and the occasional slurp of a glass of orange juice from Tony who was only deliberately slurping to try and get a rise out of Natasha.

He wanted to know about what had caused her to react so badly in the meeting and Tony being Tony, he wasn't going to keep his nose out of other people's business.

The clock could be heard ticking away on the wall as breakfast continued silently. The only time anyone spoke was an occasional "please could you pass the syrup?" or "is there any more coffee in the pot?" and even then, answers were strained.

Natasha could sense this and she knew it was because of her. So she figured she should put an end to it and put her fork down, taking a sip of her coffee before leaning back in her chair with a sigh.

"So. Let's just get this out in the open so everything can go back to normal, alright?" The others, minus Barton, gave her look that tried to ask what she was talking about. She just gave them a look back that said you're kidding, right? "Yes, I know - knew... I knew the Winter Soldier. Yes, I didn't want to say anything. But it's not the first time that my past has come back to bite me in the ass so just deal with it and we can move on. Steve, can I see you after breakfast? I have some information regarding the mission."

Steve simply nodded in reply, glancing at Clint to silently ask if it was alright to be alone in a room with her. Clint just smirked and nodded. Natasha wasn't going to hurt the Star Spangled Man with a Plan, especially not when she had to work with him. She was easily able to compartmentalize her feelings and emotions and push them aside to work with no problems. It was certainly unhealthy but it worked for her and Clint never pushed her on the matter.

Tony went a whole five minutes before pushing her buttons even more.

"So, this Winter Soldier. Where did he get that name from, huh?"

Natasha's disdain was evident on her face but she kept herself as stoic as possible, scraping her pancakes up hard enough to leave marks on the plate, her teeth gritted.

"He was a soldier who was found in the winter."

"Russian?"

"We don't know."

"But you said you knew him from when you were in Russia."

Bruce was the one who sighed and cut in this time.

"Tony, just because someone was in the country at the time doesn't mean that's their nationality. I thought you were a genius?"

Tony rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I'm a genius and I know that! It's just likely that he was Russian. I did some digging last night and -" His words were cut off as Steve shoved him forward in his seat just in time to avoid a knife that flew through the air and embedded itself in the wall behind Tony exactly where his head would have been moments before. Everyone looked back at Natasha, only to find that her seat was empty, her plate in the sink.

How on earth had she moved so fast? And so quietly?

Clint didn't move from his seat and raised his eyebrows when everyone looked at him expectantly.

"What?" He mumbled through a mouthful of pancake.

"Aren't you going after your girlfriend, Legolas? She nearly killed me!"

Clint shrugged.

"Tasha's not my girlfriend and she's working through some personal stuff. She's okay, there's not much I can do right now."

Tony just humphed and went back to his breakfast, muttering about crazy Russians and their crazy tempers, while Bruce put his head in his hands with a groan and Steve left the room to find Natasha to discuss whatever information she had. It was going to be a long morning.

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**The next chapter is coming soon!**


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